Insert Title Here help me please!
by MonChan94
Summary: 4 years after the first movie, China is in a pretty bad situation. Yah, sorry. I'm rubbish with summaries. Theres a better one inside. Oh, and could you please help me think of a title? Please R
1. Chapter 1

_Okay, so, my school was out for autumn break last week, and I (wisely) decided to catch up on schoolwork by watching all the Disney movies I'd seen as a kid. I know: smart right? I watched Hercules, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, 101 Dalmatians, Tarzan, The Little Mermaid, Cinderella, The Lion King, The Rescuers, Pinocchio… you name it. All of them were great because I got to re-live the awesomeness of being a seven year old, but a couple in particular grabbed my special attention: Mulan being one of them. I enjoyed it much more then when I was a kid, probably because I could actually understand some of the more erm… 'big kid' jokes, and also because I found Mulan's bravery inspiring and well, amazing. (oh and lets not forget that hunk of a Captain… ahh…) *ehem*… anyway… to sum up, my crazy ass brain cooked this up and I decided it put it out there. Enjoy :D _

_**Background:**__ THE SECOND MOVIE NEVER HAPPENED. Two Months after Mulan retuned from saving China the emperor fell ill. I haven't decided whether he's dead or not… he probably is. Anyway, after that everything got really confusing, a bunch of different powerful guys tried to take over, and there's all these battles raging around the country to try and restore order. And because the economy is totally messed up most of the outlying villages have next to no money, so most of the people are really poor. Oh no right? Okay what else… oh yah, this civil unrest has been going on for about four years, and in that time Mulan has neither seen nor heard from anyone she met at the Wu Zhong camp, her last meeting with any of them being the dinner she had with Captain Shang at the end of the first movie. And that's about it I think… yup… that's it. _

_Oooh yah… one more thing: I do not own any of the Characters! Except General __Liao. And Kim Ja-Hao. And Chen Liang. And Bao the Bartender. And the random dude at the bar with the freaky nose. Yah, he's mine too. _

**Insert Title Here (help me please!)**

XxXxX

The calm pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the tiled roof above him soothed Fa Zhou's aching head. With the rapid approach of winter the old army General had fallen ill, his strength weakening like the orange leaves that clung to the magnolia tree. From his aching bones to his sweaty brow the old man suffered as though he were trapped deepest pit of hell, but refused to show how ill he actually was to all the members of his small family. He smiled as much as he could when they were around and refused to see a doctor, calming it was just a cold. Money was already tight as it was anyway.

Since the civil unrest had begun just months after Fa Zhou's daughter, Mulan, had returned from war, and the middle kingdom had become divided: the inner cities in constant conflict and the outer settlements reduced to poverty. While the imperial soldiers fought against each other and external forces trying to restore order to the proud country, the innocent prayed to their ancestors day and night, desperately hanging on to the hope that one day everything would return to normal and their villages would be blessed with peace and prosperity once more. In the mean time, the villagers were plagued with theft, famine, strife, and poverty; the extremely desperate reduced to living on the streets and stealing from people who had once been their friends, while the completely hopeless lay rotting in the corners of outlying inns, transformed to nothing more then empty shells of the men they had once been.

Fa Zhou sighed and rolled onto his back, silently observing the cracks in the ceiling, trailing them with his eyes, imagining different shapes they might form: anything to take his mind of the searing pain in the back of is scull. He allowed his mind to wander to the times before he'd been confined to his room on his wife's orders. He'd been down to the local tavern on almost a nightly basis back then, to catch up on the rumors and theories about what was actually happening in the imperial city. He would sit for hours talking to the travelers, soaking in all the information he could possibly get about the happenings in the rest of China. On his last visit he'd spoken to a man whose name he could not recall, though whose appearance he would probably never forget. The stranger had been a small man, scarcely a half a foot taller then Fa Li, Zhou's wife. He'd worn a red coat, the sign of an imperial soldier, which had hung in tatters around his bronze shoulders; tanned by the months of traveling in the sun. His beady black eyes had been far too close together, and his nose had seemed quite crooked, like he'd broken it one too many times. He'd never drunk the ale served to him by Bao, the bar tender, but every now and the he had taken a swig from a flask wrapped in a red velvet pouch which he'd hung by a string around his neck. His neck had been thick, almost as wide as his square face, and he'd spoken with a mixed accent as though he'd learned Chinese in about twenty different provinces.

The chatter in the tavern had tuned to the rumors of invading Mongols from the north. While many of the men had refused to believe that the Mongols were on the move at all, arguing with anyone who supposed it to be true, the traveler had simply listened silently in the corner of the bar before finally offering his own knowledge into the pool of contradicting facts.

"The Mongols are invading all right." He stated, so confidently that even Bao stopped wiping the grimy beer mugs to listen to what he had to say. "There have already been about thirty battles against them at the northern boarders. I should know. I was there. They're coming in numbers so great the length of the Great Wall wouldn't be enough to keep them out."

A shocked buzz of conversation erupted around the tavern, only to die down as the traveler spoke once more. "China's armies are weak. We stand divided, this civil strife eating away at our core like wormwood. And the Mongols know that. Though we may refer to them in casual conversation as dim-witted barbarians, we all know now that they had enough sense to notice our desperate situation and take advantage of it. If we, as a nation, don't use half as much sense to pull ourselves together and destroy this common enemy soon, China will perish, one man at a time."

When the drifter had finished speaking he had leant back in his chair; eyes closed, flask at his lips, the orange candlelight cropping his face to make it look angular and hard as stone. The people in the tavern had stared, dumbfounded, at the stranger, before gradually resuming their previous conversations as though nothing had happened. Truth was a burden; and while the traveler's reasoning was logical, it had not been enough to allow the narrow minded to see passed their own noses. The villagers remained ignorant, or perhaps simply in denial, as their Country crumbled before their very eyes…

"Baba?" Mulan's voice drifted through the weakening oak wood door and into the aging man's ears, waking him from his thoughts.

"Enter, my daughter." Fa Zhou replied, putting on a mask that smiled at his daughter when she stepped into his room. In her arms she carried a tray, with a ceramic pot of tea and small teacup, balanced on top of a thick red blanket.

"I thought you might be cold." The girl explained, gently lowering the blanket to the ground, taking great care not to spill the jasmine tea.

She placed the tray to her right before standing and unfolding the woolen blanket, which she then draped over the sheet that covered her father's frail body. The extra weight it provided was strangely comforting to the old man, and the warmth immediately seeped into his robe, right through his skin and into his heart.

"Thank you, Mulan." He whispered, his husky voice rich with love for his precious daughter.

"I made you some tea too. I thought it might help with your cough." Mulan said as she poured some of the amber liquid into a cup. "How are you feeling this evening, Baba?" She inquired as she handed him the cup.

The old man raised the cup to his chapped lips, savoring its warmth and the subtle yet sweet smell of jasmine that issued from its toasty steam. He took a sip, careful not to burn his tongue, and allowed the sweet liquid to trickle down his raw throat before answering her. "I feel grateful that I am blessed with such a beautiful and filial daughter."

Mulan blushed, accepting the praise from her father with gratitude, but did not allow the compliment to distract her. "Baba, how is your cough? And your temperature? If it is any worse Mama and I think we should send for a doctor."

"Mulan," Her father replied, "No matter how many times you ask this question, my answer will not change. It is simply a cold. Nothing time and rest will not heal."

"But Father-"

"Enough. My word is final." Fa Zhou snapped, his temper running short with lack of sleep.

Mulan stared at his words, unaccustomed to arguing with her father, who usually accepted her opinion. She gazed at his stony face, observing a hint of tiredness behind his hard accusing eyes, and felt her heart drop. This was all a charade. Underneath everything she knew her father was suffering, but was refusing to acknowledge it for her benefit. She reached out and rested her palm on the back of his coarse hand, tracing an old battle scar beneath her fingertips. "I'm sorry." She whispered, before bowing swiftly and leaving the room; not trusting herself to maintain composure while the burning behind her eyes increased at an almost unbearable rate.

Once out in the hallway, Mulan allowed her tears flow, grateful that with each salty bead a little of her bottled up anguish could spill out of her system.

She crossed the entrance hall and went into the living room, facing the gray downpour of rain outside through a thin bamboo curtain. The raindrops pelted their way to the solid earth, smashing themselves into the soggy ground, denting the fine dirt with every stroke. Her teardrops, in contrast, never fell from her face. Their journey was cut short with the swipe of a hand the moment Mulan felt her face was getting too wet. For the past four years, ever since she'd returned from battle, Mulan had never let one of her tears hit the ground. Not when the emperor had fallen ill, not when the government had become corrupted and dishonest, not when innocent farmers, neighbors, and friends had been taken away in rickety wooden carriages, never to be seen or heard from again. Soldiers never cried. And she, if nothing else, was a soldier.

XxXxX

The clang of sword on sword and the cry of anguished men in the heat of battle echoed across the sodden valley. Rain had been falling from the sky for weeks, leaving the ground a swamp of mud and water, with puddles of blood pooling where the fallen lay. The imperial soldiers still standing were gravely outnumbered, and the lack of food since they'd run out on their trek through the mountains was beginning to take it's toll. With each stroke of the blade, their weapons grew heavier in their hands, forcing some to collapse in exhaustion.

The Mongol forces that had been waiting in ambush at the bottom of the Tsu Yen pass were greater in both size and strength. The men had hardly had time to register what was happening before the slice of cold metallic blades brought a quarter of their number to a sudden stop. While the rest did their best to defend themselves in close combat, many were picked off one by one: an arrow protruding out of their still chests. In the utter chaos of battle it was impossible to see which of their comrades had fallen. At every fatal cry the most they could do was hope it wasn't one of their own.

"FALL BACK! RETURN TO CAMP!" Captain Li's voice cut strong and certain through the downpour, giving his remaining soldiers a little bit of hope and the chance to escape with their lives.

As he turned his back to flee from his foe, the Captain felt a little of his pride seep into the ground with the rain. No matter what the situation, he had once been a Captain of principal who put his honor and the will of China before the lives of his men. This all changed as the number of deaths under his command crept into their sixties. He felt himself getting smothered by the guilt that rested upon his shoulders with every life lost. After four years of praying and waiting all those families would end up with nothing but a dog tag smeared with dried blood: the faded characters of their child's name engraved on the rotting wood. Those desperate families would then turn to him for an explanation of their hero's untimely departure. And he would have none to give…

"HOW COULD YOU RETREAT?" General Liao's voice pierced the air, snapping the Captain to attention. He sunk to his knee in front of the General as a sign of respect, his face burning from the exhaustion of racing back to their crude temporary camp in a clearing near the foot of the Wei Tan Mountains. Immediately the worn out Captain tried to defend his actions.

"We were being butchered. I couldn't risk any more of my men. Morale is already low as it is."

"Well it would be wouldn't it?" The General snapped, raking his nails through his thinning hair, "With you running away every time the war gets a little to real for you!"

"What could possibly be gained by their deaths?" The Captain challenged, his sore hands balling into fists as he tried to contain his hate for the official.

The General lowered himself onto a chair lined with rabbit fur. "Well, for starters there would be less mouths to feed." He answered, glancing at his own reflection in the polished vase that stood on his desk.

The Captain felt something inside him snap. He stood up and began yelling at the only man he could blame for his men's misery. "And what about their families? What do we tell them? Should we just tell them that their son, or brother, or husband lost his life because no one was bothered to go down to the market and buy a loaf of bread?"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" The General spat, also getting to his feet. "You forget your place, Captain Li. I am your superior and you will listen to and obey my orders."

"You forget that they are PEOPLE out there, General Liao. People with lives that matter to someone!"

"What about your life, Shang? Who does your life matter to other then your self?" The General asked with a knowing glint in his eyes.

Shang froze, his racing heart chilled by a sudden tang of loneliness. He dropped his gaze to the floor, noticing for the first time the mud and blood that had caked his boots. Like the rest of his armor it had been tainted by the sin of warfare, while his General's stayed clean, glimmering gold in the dying candlelight.

"No one." He muttered, before solemnly bowing his head and moving towards the flap of the tent.

At the flap he paused and looked back at the General, any sign of hurt erased from his solid face. "Tomorrow, at dawn, we move out of the mountains and head to the nearest village, where we can resupply" He stated, more to himself then the General. "I must make sure my men get enough sleep. We've already lost so much time."

"Very well, Captain Li. I will trust you to organize the watch for tonight." General Liao said as he dismissed Shang with a slight flick of his hand.

Shang exited the tent, unaware of his surroundings as he was completely absorbed in a brand new battle: a battle inside his mind. He hated working for General Liao: the man was dishonest, cowardly, untrustworthy, selfish… He'd only chosen this expedition in the first place because it had been the only one that took him far enough from the imperial city for him to forget that his life had now been completely laid out for him. It was like when he'd been a kid, he thought, and he'd played with his father's puzzle boxes. There'd always been the first piece to move and the last piece to move, and only one way to get from start to finish. If he moved one of the pieces at the wrong time, the box would not open. Until recently he'd always assumed life would be the opposite of this: like a checkers game. There was a start, and there was a finish, but how you got from one to the other was completely up to you. But now…

Frustrated, he stormed out into the clearing where the soggy coal for the fire had bled black water into the fire pit, forming a dark puddle that shimmered with each raindrop. The camp was deathly quiet save for the occasional moan from the doctors tent where the more severely injured were trying to recover. Lowering himself onto a log by the fire pit, Shang fingered the hilt of his sword, mostly out of habit than anything else. He felt the cool bumps in the metal slide beneath his raw skin, cherishing the familiarity of every dip in its unique design. His father's name engraved into the sword, as it had belonged to him before he'd passed it on to Shang as a gift for becoming a Captain. The day he'd received the sword was the last day Shang had ever seen his father. Li Chen had left him, just like everyone else, Shang thought bitterly, picking up a rock and heaving it into the forest in front of him. The rock landed with a distant clatter accompanied by the flurry of feathers beating franticly. Some birds taking refuge under the kind arms of oak trees had cast this enchanting sound, as they tried to escape the invisible foe that had disturbed their slumber. These birds soon settled, and the camp was once again engulfed by silence…

A sudden tapping sound pierced the damp air, catching Shang's attention. Fearing the worst, he drew his father's sword and cautiously moved to the path that led to the Tsu Yen pass. He'd been quite confident they'd lost any Mongols in the chaos of their retreat, but tiny doubts began worming their way into his mind as the unfamiliar tapping sound grew louder, now enhanced by the slow crunch of feet scraping across the uneven surface of gravel.

Shang felt blood begin to race through his body as the rush of adrenalin filled his mind and left no room for the petty worries he's had before. He stole behind one of the tents and peered around the side, observing a shadow growing slowly larger as it approached the camp. _Where are the guards?_ Shang thought with a jolt. _They're supposed to be looking out for things like this..._ _But there are no guards tonight, are there Shang? _He recalled as the scornful face of General Liao floated up on the back of his eyelids. _YOU were in charge of organizing a night watch! Way to go CAPTAIN… _

"Captain Li?" Shang's mind woke with a start as he lifted his gaze to observe the intruder. It was one of his new recruits, a young boy no more then sixteen years old. His shaggy black hair was tied back in a messy bun, and in his arms he carried about twenty little plaques of wood.

"Ja-Hao." Shang replied, surprised to see that the simple boy was still alive after six months of constant fighting.

"Sorry to startle you Captain. " Ja-Hao apologized, as he hastily tried to shuffle passed the Captain and back to his tent.

"Wait. What are those?" Shang asked, indicating the plaques of wood.

Slowly, Ja-Hao turned back to Shang and handed him one of the plaques with trembling fingers. Shang snatched it from him, irritated by the boy's cowardly attitude, and almost choked when he felt the texture of the wood. What at first had looked smooth and polished was in fact sticky and wet. Within moments he also realized that the wood's rich brown color was actually a deep red. The plaque was covered in fresh blood. Alarmed, Shang rubbed the blood away with his thumb to reveal a set of grooves underneath the scarlet paint. Chen Liang.

"This is… This is Chen Liang's dog tag." Shang whispered, his heart pounding as he realized how many Ja-Hao was holding. "Is that all of them?" He asked, his voice betraying his devastation.

"No, sir. These were the only ones I could find. The rest must have been lost in the fight. There were so many bodies, I couldn't tell which were ours and which were Mongols…" Ja-Hao replied, quietly retrieving Chen Liang's dog tag from Shang's white fingers.

Shang nodded, regarding the teenager with more respect then he had before. "That was very brave of you Ja-Hao. Did anyone go with you?"

The boy shook his head. "No sir. No one else wanted to go back. I just… I wanted to go because I know if I die, I'd want someone to return my dog tag to my family for me. I thought it was the right thing to do. But I…" The boy's voice faded, and he stood staring at the floor before Shang's feet like a schoolboy in front of his teacher.

"What is it, Ja-Hao?" Shang asked, gently resting his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I couldn't help everyone." He finished, looking up at Shang with moist eyes.

Shang nodded, wiping away the boy's tears like an older brother. "You never can. But every little thing you do, no matter how small, will help ease somebody's pain."

The boy nodded, and together, he and Shang walked to the supply tent where they found a sack that could carry the dog tags in until they reached a village. The silence that surrounded them as they slowly packed each plaque neatly into the whicker sack was a comfortable one. Neither felt the need to fill it with words.

When they were finished Shang nodded his head slightly, taking his leave, and turned to take the first watch for the night.

"Is this war every going to end, Captain?" Ja-Hao asked, stopping Shang before he reached the tent flap.

"Someday. Hopefully." Shang replied.

"I used to think war was all for a noble cause. Something you should be proud to be a part of. But now I see I was wrong, and that have much to learn."

Shang smiled knowingly. "Nothing is ever as you expect it to be. What have you learned so far?"

A small smile crossed Ja-Hao's lips as he looked up at Shang. "Soldiers never cry."

XxXxX

_Okeydokey! That's chapter one over and done with. I actually have no idea how I want this story to go, so would LOVE to hear any suggestions you might have. And any ideas for a good title… If, on the other hand, you think this story should just go curl up and die in a hole, then please let me know! I'm totally open to criticism: I know my writing is pretty damn awful (my English teacher never lets me forget it) so I'm just glad you read this far __ If you want me to continue though, you'll have to review. My life is a complete maze right now: I have an insane amount of things to do. So if no one's reviewing, I'm gonna assume no ones reading and I'll stop writing, (which may in fact do the world a favor_ :P)


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm not even going to pretend I have a reason for not writing in forever. I could give you a long list of what I think are EXCELLENT excuses, but I suppose I should just get right into the story before I loose all of my readers. If I still have any left. I'm REALLY sorry guys! I promise the next update will be sooner! _

_**Previously: **__China is in peril. The emperor is… not in power. (He might be dead. I don't know yet.) It has been four years since the first movie. Mulan has neither seen nor heard from anyone from the Wu Zhong camp. Fa Zhou is very sick and he won't let anyone in his family call for a doctor. Shang, working under the jackass General Liao, has decided to lead his crumbling army to the nearest town to resupply (though this fact isn't important to the next chapter. Sorry guys, no Shang this time. I know. I'm really sad too.__) _

_All characters belong to Disney. Except some. _

**Insert Title Here (help me please!)**

XxXxX

The sweet scent of cooked vegetables seeped through the bamboo steamer and filled the narrow kitchen from corner to corner, warming Fa Li's face. The past few nights had been a torment: the fear that her husband would not wake up in the morning tortured her nightly, causing much tossing and turning while silent tears trickled down her crinkled cheeks. He was such a stubborn old man. If only he'd let her send for a doctor. They would get the money some how. By selling cloth or wheat or… but who would have the money to buy the goods from her? With each passing day, more and more shops at the old market place in Xia Kun became empty shacks that no one gave a second glance to. The families that had run the shops would then pack up and leave in hopes of finding their distant relations under better circumstances. If they were lucky. The unlucky ones who had no connections out of the village would either drown themselves in liquor or lower themselves to prostitution in a desperate attempt to pocket a few coins. Li's village was dying. And no amount of medicine could save it.

_The same cannot be said for my husband_. Li thought. _If I could get my hands on one vial, one measly vial of medicine it might save Zhou's life. But how? _

Li found her mind wandering back seven months, to a conversation that still strangled her conscience day and night…

XxXxX

_It is midmorning in late May. Li is sitting, propped up on her knees at the dining room table, with a brush in her right hand. She is facing the paper screen across the room, which is half open: offering her a view of the green barley swaying in the passing breeze. Summer is on its way, and this thought brings a smile to Li's face. She dips her brush in ebony ink, and swirls it around, once… twice… her eyes close as she empties her mind of her worries. _

"_Li? It's the Mien family at the door. They're here to say their farewells." Looking up from her calligraphy, Li sees her husband standing in the doorway with his head hung low and his eyes clouded with sadness. She frowns, trying to get her wits around the new information, but her mind treats the unwanted news as an intruder, tearing it to shreds before she can begin to understand what her husband meant. _

_She shakes her head, bringing it back to the present before asking her husband to repeat his words. _

"_I'm sorry my dear. It is a shock to all of us. The Mien family has decided to leave Xia Kun." Zhou answers, approaching Li with a look of concern on his face. _

"_Our neighbors? But their family has been here longer then ours! They are the roots that keep Xia Kun standing!" Li cries in disbelief. _

_Zhou nods and places a hand on his wife's shoulder. "The loss of their business last year has cost them greatly. They are headed south to Jinan where they hope to find Gajun's brother in good health and prosperity."_

_Li stands immediately and pushes past her husband into the hall. She barely registers the sound of her ink vile toppling over onto the table. Instead, her mind focuses on the muffled voices coming form the entryway. As she approaches the front door she arranges her features into that of concern, rather than shock._

_The sight that greets her almost destroys her composure. In the courtyard in front of their house is a large cart full to the brim with pots, pans, mattresses, books, scrolls of paper, clothes, chairs, tables, rugs, and an enormous amount of stone plaques in honor of the Mien's ancestors. Gajun is tying a tarp over the items to keep them from falling, and though Li cannot see the poor man's face, his crumpled posture leaves little to the imagination. He cries out in anguish as a plaque clatters to the ground, startling the chickens in the coop next to the house. The chickens' panicked clucking drowns out the peaceful sound of the running water from the creek by the stables. A beautiful spring sun hangs high in the sky, advertising its irony for all to see, making Li feel sick to the stomach. _

_Across the courtyard, Li notices Grandma Fa offering words of comfort to Gajun's distraught wife. Unsure what to say to Gajun himself, she decides to join the two women. _

"_We made the decision two nights ago" Shin-La sobs, "we've been praying for a lucky break for twelve months now, to no avail. Our only hope is Jinan. Sha-Ron only found out we were leaving this morning."_

_Li scans the courtyard for Sha-Ron, Shin-La's nine year old daughter. A flash of bright pink below the magnolia tree alerts Li to the little girl's presence. As she had predicted, Sha-Ron is sitting beside Mulan, who is holding the shaken child's hand as the little girl struggles to say goodbye. The twelve-year age gap between the two meant that as they were growing up, Mulan became somewhat of a role model for Sha-Ron. After Mulan returned from war as the hero of China, Sha-Ron, along with many other children of the village, had begged her to teach them how to be 'tough'. The memory brought a crinkle of a smile to Li's lips as she remembered the number of children who would come to her door every morning. _'Is Fa Mulan here?' _Now only a handful of children were left in all of Xia Kun: many had left with their families, others had been sold to the army, a few had simply vanished, while the least fortunate were found in the backs of alleyways or at the bottom of rivers; the tears of their loved ones pooling into puddles on their still chests._

_Grandma Fa remembers a precious object she wishes to give to the Mien family as a parting gift. She excuses herself and leaves the two women alone. As her small figure retreats into the house, Shin-La lowers herself to the front step and begins to weep into her hands. Li sits beside her, placing a comforting hand on the distressed woman's shoulder._

"_This is all my fault" the woman whispers through her fingers. _

_Li shakes her head. "Of course not Shin-La. No one could have seen this coming. You must not berate yourself for it. Things will be all right. You'll see."_

"_No." Shin-La says, looking Li straight in the eye. "Things would have been different if I'd have been brave."_

_The air is abruptly lightened by a sudden outburst of giggles. The women turn their heads towards the sound to see Sha-Ron laughing uncontrollably as Mulan tickles her. Sha-Ron jumps to her feet and dashes behind the tree, smiling as Mulan plays along. _

"_You are so blessed Li." Shin-La sighs. "Mulan has grown to be such a beautiful, kind, calm young woman."_

_Li laughs. "I don't know about that. Mulan will never be as calm as most people would like. It's her fiery spirit that got her caught up in the war three years ago."_

"_And her bravery. If only I were as bold…"_

_Li frowns. "I don't understand."_

_Shin-La takes a deep breath before continuing. "Right after Gajun lost his job, I got a tip from a source I'm not supposed to mention. Apparently, in the neighboring village of Bei-Wen, only fifteen miles west of here, there is a man who goes by the name Ren Guang. Supposedly he has powerful connections within the walls of the Imperial City, and if the right offer is made, he will supply the individual with food, money, medicine: anything to make their life easier. I wanted to go, and I did. Two months ago. But when I got to the inn where Ren Guang was said to have been residing I got cold feet. The place stank of smoke and liquor. The men inside were dark, tough and I… I was frightened. I couldn't go through with it. Now I wish I had. All I ever wanted was for Sha-Ron to grow up in my village. Our village. I have failed, Li. If you are ever faced with a similar dilemma don't make the same mistake I did. There are some who can assist people like us. All our troubles are just one signature away form disappearing."_

_Before Li can reply, Gajun announces their departure as he grabs the reins and wraps them around his own shoulders. _

"_Where's your horse?" Zhou's concerned voice echoes from the hall as the old man limps towards the courtyard, having spent the last five minutes cleaning up the mess his wife made when she spilled the ink. _

"_We had to sell her." Gaji states, his voice stony, yet slightly weathered with exhaustion. "Shin-La! Sha-Ron! We are leaving."_

_Shin-La bows to Li before turning her back to join her husband. Sha-Ron takes a little longer, being slowly and unwillingly led by Mulan back to the courtyard. _

"_But I don't want to leave." Sha-Ron sobs, all traces of a smile wiped from her face. "I want to stay here. In Xia Kun. You've been like a sister to me Mulan." _

_Mulan smiles and wraps Sha-Ron in a hug. "And you've been like one to me. Right down to your annoying little habits. But you know what? I'm sure there is someone just like me in Jinan!" _

_Sha-Ron rolls her eyes. "Yah right. Because millions of people have saved China from an unfathomable void of pain and doom at the mercy of Shan-Yu."_

"_Wow. Unfathomable. That's a big word Sha-Ron. Can you say it three times fast?"_

"_Unfathomable. Unfavomanble. Unthasomambo."_

_Mulan Laughs. "Keep practicing kiddo. I'm sure the next time we meet you'll be able to say it ten times, twice as fast, standing on your head."_

"_Ten times? Make it Twenty!" Sha-Ron grins as she skips to catch up with her parents. _

_Mulan waves as she walks over to her mother. "I'm going to miss Sha-Ron." She murmurs quietly. "Day by day Xia Kun seems to be getting smaller."_

"_Wait! Wait! I found it!" Grandma Fa's voice calls from the depths of the house drowning out the last of Mulan's words. _

_The old woman hurries into the courtyard with a small wooden cage in her hand. She runs up to Shin-La and fastens the cage to the surprised woman's belt. "Keep it. Its our lucky cricket, but you need it more than we do."_

_Inside the cage, Cri-Kee watches in horror as the house he has lived in for almost four years begins to fade into the distance. He sees Mulan's face and observes a hint of recognition in her eyes as she notices him. For a moment he thinks she is going to say something. But she changes her mind and simply watches as the cart turns the corner and drives out of sight. _

XxXxX

The vegetable steamer rattled, snapping Fa Li out of her flashback. Li had considered Shin-La's advice on many occasions, but being a woman of principal she had always made it a habit of never getting involved with things beyond her, and this was certainly way out of her league. Conspiring with strange men in dingy taverns? Not only was this improper, but she was almost certain the men would obtain the goods she needed illegally. Still, desperate times called for desperate measures.

_Perhaps,_ Li thought, _I am not being held back by my sense of honor. Maybe I'm just like Shin-La. A middle-aged woman who is too cowardly to take the first few steps that might save her family. _

Li wiped away a lone tear that had trickled down her weathered cheek with the back of her hand. She shouldn't be dwelling on what might or could happen. She needed to focus on what was happening now, and right now she was making dinner: a simple task for one so experienced in the field. She lifted the bamboo lid and welcomed the breath of hot steam like an old friend. It did miracles to clear her heart and mind.

"Need any help in there?" The sound of her mother in law's voice startled Li, but the interruption was welcome: she could use the company.

"Yes. Thank you." She replied, masking her previous thoughts with a smile.

The old woman hobbled into the kitchen, humming an ancient tune as she retrieved a spoon and began pouring soup into ceramic bowls.

"You know, if you had been standing any stiller, I'd have sworn you were growing out of the floor. What were you thinking about, dearie?" Grandma Fa asked, a certain joviality to her tone.

Busying herself with the slightly soggy vegetables, Li took her time to answer.

"Nothing in particular. It is easy to lose one's self in one's thoughts when one has so little to distract them." She replied, careful to sound breezy.

Grandma Fa frowned, but said nothing as she picked up a piece of carrot that had fallen to the floor and popped it in her mouth.

"Whatever you say. My goodness, have you seen the rain today? The ancestors are taking extra long showers, if you ask me. And don't think they don't need it." She joked as she made her way into the dining room and placed the soup bowls on the rickety table whose scarred, dried out face yearned for a time when it had been wearing a shimmering coat of polished black paint. It groaned as the added weight of the soup threw it slightly off balance. "Hmm… Surprised that table doesn't just collapse on itself," Grandma Fa commented as she walked back into the kitchen to fetch the bowls of rice. She reached out her hand to lift the lid of the pot hanging over the hearth, but Li stopped her with a voice scarcely above a whisper.

"There is no rice tonight mother. Nor will there be for a while. We simply can't afford any."

"Oh…" For once Grandma Fa grew silent. After a few minutes the old woman found her voice and muttered, "Well I suppose we'll just have to make do."

Li shook her head "If Mulan had gotten married before this cursed time we would have had enough money to buy food. Maybe even a new table." She said through her gritted teeth.

Grandma Fa did not reply. She stood staring at the empty rice pot, realizing for the first time the gravity of their situation.

"I mean it's all right for people like Shin-La." Li continued "Their daughters are still under sixteen. Mulan is Twenty-two! Twenty-three come March. Was it my fault? Did I not teach my daughter well? Why? Why couldn't she be a normal woman?"

"Mulan is a blessing." Grandma Fa snapped, a little harsher than she meant to. Calming her voice she continued quietly. "She may not be the most beautiful, graceful, calm, efficient, or obedient woman around, but she saved China!"

"That was a one time thing. I'm sure she couldn't do it again if she was paid to."

"She could-"

"Then why doesn't she? When has China needed a hero more then now? We may have escaped the Huns but I'm starting to believe being tortured by them would have been a better fate then what we have to live through day after day! More death, more poverty, more sickness, more hunger! Everyday!" Li shook her head and returned her attention back to the tea she was pouring. "Besides," She continued calmly, "Saving China is nothing to be proud of if you're a woman. If you're a man maybe, but…"

"I meant in terms of her future husband." Grandma Fa interrupted, "If it weren't for all those battles raging around the kingdom, young men would be lining up at the door. She's a hero, who wouldn't want her?"

"Everyone! A quarter of those young men you are referring to will leave the moment they set eyes on her, and another half will leave once they realize she has next to no money! If she does marry one of the men in the quarter that's left it will be a sad marriage indeed. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the groom canceled the wedding before the ceremony. Who wants a wife with a higher rank?"

Grandma Fa shook her head. "That may be so, but she's still your daughter, and my granddaughter. We must be grateful for what we have."

Li nodded. "I am grateful. I just wish… I just wish that she could make herself useful once in a while."

XxXxX

Mulan sat with her head buried in her arms in the middle of the living room. Behind her hung her mother's calligraphy. In front of her the paper screen door stood wide open, allowing the odd raindrop to fall into the room and latch itself to her frozen skin. The oil lamp that hung above her head had died long ago, casting the room in shadows, but Mulan made no move to re-light it. The gloom seemed fitting for her mood. Hadn't her mother figured out that everything said in the kitchen could be heard all around the house? She may not be able to see them, but she was catching every word her mother and grandmother said. Her grandmother was now arguing that Mulan had single handedly done more for China than anyone in history. Mulan could already guess how her mother would respond to _that_ one.

"_China, of course, but what has she done for this family? She can't cook, she can't weave, she can't sing or dance. She can barely pour a proper cup of tea, and she hasn't even been able to work in the fields where she can sometimes be useful because no one is buying barley anymore. She's not married, so she can't bare any sons. She's just another mouth to feed."_

While she was in the army Mulan had suffered multiple wounds. She'd even survived a stab to the stomach. But nothing cut her deeper than the words cascading out of her mother's mouth. _I guess I've always been a disappointment._ She thought to herself, wrapping her arms around her knees and bunching herself up, wishing she could fold away into nothing.

After her mother's speech the kitchen grew quiet. Only the occasional clinking of china could be heard. Somewhere deep in the house Fa Zhou began coughing. Then silence. Mulan lifted her head and allowed the raindrops to cool her face. The liquid cleared her mind and quenched the burning in the back her throat. Then, as if in solemn acceptance of her situation, Mulan let the endless pounding of the rain hitting the courtyard outside engulf her completely.

XxXxX

_Thanks for reading guys! I decided to cut it there. Yah, no Shang in this chapter, sorry. He will be in the next one, which I have already started writing. This chapter may have been a bit boring (I applaud you for finishing it) but it's really important for the plot line, and I wanted to give you a bit more background about what is going on in Mulan's village, Xia Kun (Don't ask me how to pronounce that. I have no clue.) And I sort of wanted to develop Li's character. And I wanted to experiment with the different tenses. Did it get too confusing? If so, I'm sorry. I won't do it too often._

_**Random fact:**__ Sha-Ron is the real name of that annoying kid in the very beginning of Mulan 2 who (if I recall right) takes General Shang's helmet. Yah, I decided to put her in, cuz she seemed pretty cool (did I just contradict my self? Annoying kid = pretty cool?) Anyways, I know I said the second movie never happened, BECAUSE IT DIDN'T, but just because the plot didn't play out the way it did in number 2, doesn't mean Sha-Ron doesn't exist. _

_I have the backbones of a story line down now, so I __**am**__ going somewhere with this, (bear with me) but if you have any complaints, questions or suggestions, let me know. I'm not going to beg you to review this time, because frankly I don't think I deserve it. Again, I apologize for the REALLY late update. Still, it's always nice to know people are reading, so if you feel like commenting, please do! _


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